


Drifting part VI: Oh Sinner Stan, where ya gonna run too?

by skinsuit



Series: drifting [5]
Category: Gravity Falls, Rick and Morty
Genre: Drinking, Drug Use, M/M, Passing Night Vale reference, Reality E-937, Scifi weirdness, stanchez
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-25
Updated: 2019-08-25
Packaged: 2020-10-01 20:22:04
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,323
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20393992
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/skinsuit/pseuds/skinsuit
Summary: Everything was going well for Stan and Rick, all their previous troubles were gone and they had settled down in the southwest. Until Stan's heisting hands and Rick's inventions get them in deep shit again.





	Drifting part VI: Oh Sinner Stan, where ya gonna run too?

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you once again to Peaceblank my beta reader, She's been a real rock for me.

Rotation 1 

It had been about five months since they left Minnesota, they’d ended up in the New Mexico-Arizona border area. They lived outside a small desert town called Maria del Llanto. Rick got a job as an adjunct at the local community college. Stan made a few new business associates, they even had a circle of friends. They’d scraped out something like a normal life. Currently they lived in single wide trailer on mesa road, nearby was a large metal barn which rick had commandeered for his inventions and that was the only thing nearby. Not many people outside town, just desert, coyotes, and cacti. That suited Stan fine. No sign of those fuckin’ Alridges. Yeah the town was bit... weird, what was normal anyhow? 

“…The waters will boil and turn to blood, the stones themselves will melt… and the wicked will PRAY, But it will be TOO LATE! Now is the time, my children, to be saved! Let Jesus into your heart! For the world is ending soon….”

Stan laughed and rolled his eyes. It was this or that mariachi music station. He liked mariachi better most of the time, but right now he could use a laugh.

“…just send money to support me, for I am a poor SERVANT OF THE LORD…”

Stan chuckled, “Yeah, if that’s true I got a bridge in Brooklyn for sale.”

He wondered if he shoulda gotten into the whole Jesus racket, there was good money in that. But that would mean actually reading the Bible, no thanks.

Rick came storming through the door, slamming it behind him and going directly to the fridge for a beer.

“H-HEY PINES! GUESS WHAT?!”  
Rick’s head was still in the fridge as he talked.

“Ya finished grading those papers?”

“Ugh, no.”

“Alright, tell me what you been doing in the barn?”

Rick popped up out of the fridge corona in hand, he popped the top and sat down across from Stan. He put his feet up on the table and took a large swig. “TIME TRAVEL, STAN! I Got the Fuckin’ machine all ready! I got the formula right, Fuck yeah! Time travel! Fourth dimension here we come!”

“I bet you want me to see it,” Stan sighed.

“Y-Ya know, you could be a bit more enthusiastic, Stan.” Rick grumbled.

“I just don’t wanna leave the A/C for that fuckin’ heat.” Stan groused.

“Don’t be a pussy,” Rick said. “It’s a short walk to the AIR CONDITIONED BARN!”

“Ugh, fine,” Stan said. “I’ll go.”

He got up, kissed Rick on the cheek. Rick smiled, finished his beer with a satisfied slurp, then got up. The walk to the barn was hot as hell, but thankfully short. Inside the barn it was colder than the trailer. Stan followed Rick to a heavily scribbled on chalkboard and a large metal thing that looked like an engine and old singer sewing machine had a baby. Rick gleefully plugged it in, turned a crank and a cylinder began to spin. He stepped back they watched. No sparks, no shock wave, no blue flames, no funny feeling in the air or clocks showing up and moving around them.

“Huh, that’s it?” Stan asked.

Rick looked at the machine. “Yeah, I guess. “

“Is it supposed to do nothing?” Stan asked.

Rick shrugged. “Look, I did a lot of peyote. You’re being an asshole, it might need time to ya know, warm up.”

“I’m not gonna hang around to see.” Stan said. “I got things to do.”

“Yeah, I should grade those papers and probably get ready for my one o’clock class.” Rick sighed.

Stan got in the stanleymobile (which had been recovered thanks to his business associates) and drove off to town. He fiddled with his radio dial, it was picking up a third station, some weird local news station from four towns over it was a smooth and soothing male voice saying, “….in other news the strange pastel colored, glowing singing stones from the town square have disappeared, possibly stolen… it is a bittersweet moment, for their singing reminded us of a distant childhood we can’t quite recall, they also were devouring all birds that came near...”  
Stan turned the dial with a grimace.  
Oy, it was from that weird town beyond Red Mesa, that place was extra strange, well Maria Del Llanto was a little weird, but not…like…that place. He changed to the mariachi station and soon he was in a good mood as he pulled into town. Maria Del Llanto’s building had an old Spanish mission look, brown adobe walls and red tile. In the center of the town was a fountain. In the center of the fountain was a marble statue of the Virgin Mary hands outstretched, palms facing skyward. Stan could swear he’d seen her hands over her eyes once or twice, her arms in different positions, and once he saw her grin a smile with sharp pointed teeth. But hell, he was probably drunk or stoned, and if not, it wasn’t THAT creepy compared to shit he’d seen before or the shit that apparently went on in this county. He stopped at the traffic light as a group of the stone faced Hispanic nuns in dark green habits walked by. They were from The Sisters of Sorrow convent nearby. They didn’t teach school or sing or do anything he knew nuns did. They didn’t even look both ways, just assumed he’d stop his car. Well he did, manslaughter was one thing they’d definitely put him away for. He crossed to the town’s only bar El Chupacabra, it was like any bar he’d been in, only they offered crispy pork skin as a bar snack, Stan approved. That’s where he’d meet Frank, who had some things for him to get his other business associates. Pablo behind the bar nodded to Stan and got him a glass of beer. Stan liked Pablo, he was a quiet and chilled out guy with a cool horseshoe mustache. Stan took out his cigar, lit it and puffed away waiting for Frank. Him and Pablo bullshitted in a mixture of English and Spanish. Stan was happy he was getting good at Spanish. This lawyer chick, Ajei Peshlakai showed up and bitched about his cigar while she sipped her martini. Stan chuckled and took another big puff…. Stupid lady lawyer. She glared at him. For a moment Stan thought about fucking her, hot and hateful against the back wall here. He liked her slate, straight back hair, her almond shaped eyes and her tan skin. He was three beers deep. She finished her martini, tipped out and left spitting curses.  
Where the fuck was Frank?  
Stan had sunk four beers when Frank Pasco came stumbling in looking like shit. His dark beard and hair were uncombed, his eyes wide, and his rumpled clothes stained with blood or paint. He sat down at the bar and ordered a shot of whiskey, when Frank got it he downed it immediately. Stan slid over to Frank and put a hand on his shoulder, Frank startled then looked at Stan.

“Oh, hey… man, I didn’t know it was you.”

“You look like shit, what happened?” Stan asked.

“I had some trouble with the stuff, man, ya dig?” Frank said. “It’s kinda freaky.”

“But you got it right? You ain’t gonna leave me on the hook?” Stan said.

The thing is, Stan wasn’t entirely sure what he was transporting to their mutual boss, just whatever it was, the boss wanted it; Pasco got it, and Stan would get it to the boss. 

Frank held up one finger to Stan, a gesture to be patient, ugh. Frank ordered another shot of whiskey, gulped it and turned and spoke to Stan. “Yeah, I got it, just follow me.”

Frank got up, a bit unsteadily and Stan trudged behind him. They walked out behind the bar to where Frank’s unmarked white van was parked, Frank unlocked the back door. There was a low humming coming from inside the van from about half dozen old cardboard liquor boxes. 

“This it?” Stan asked.

“Yep,” said Frank. “Take ‘em to 13 sunset drive and put them in the loading dock. Georg will pay you.” 

“Heh, yeah Georg, is he still a bug eating’ freak?” Stan asked.

“Pretty much, he was last week when you saw him.” Said Frank.

They both laughed at that, they did it every week, same joke. Stan unloaded the unmarked humming cardboard boxes into the trunk and backseat of the Stanleymobile. As he started to drive, he thought... what were these things? And if the boss wanted them so bad, why shouldn’t Stan check’em out, it wasn’t like the boss would catch Stan, he didn’t have eyes everywhere and he was miles from the landing dock. Stan pulled over, he opened the back door and took out a box and opened it. The were shapes that were softly glowing: yellow, blue, pink and green. The way they sang put him back on glass shard beach on the swing set, eating stolen candy, laughing with Sixer…. He could smell the candy, hear the sound of the ocean and Ford’s laughter and almost see…. NO. He shut the box with a shudder. Well, maybe they were valuable, after all the boss wanted them. Maybe someone else would too. Stan got out a shovel and buried the box, it was just one, no one would care or notice. After he drove to the warehouse at 13 Sunset drive, Georg was pacing on the loading dock, ugly bastard looked like a diseased toe come to life. He smiled crookedly when he saw Stan.

“We good?” He said munching on something with hairy legs that he’d pulled from his pocket.

“Uhhh, yeah,” Stan said and unloaded the boxes.

Afterward Georg gave Stan a roll of hundreds bound with a rubber band. Stan counted them, yeah it was enough.

He drove back to the trailer, smoked a jay and took a nap in front of the fan in his room. He woke up feeling groggy and aching he musta slept on something wrong. He could hear the strains of Elton John singing and Rick? He stretched, scratched and rolled out of bed. Rick was making a mess of rice and beans in his tighty-whiteys and a lab coat. Rick singing along to Rocketman using a wooden spoon as an improvised microphone. The sofrito Rick cooked with smelled amazing… the song ended and Dj was saying the station was from Tempe?

“You did something to the radio didn’t you?” Stan asked sleepily.

“Yeah, I made it work,” Rick said stirring the beans.

There was a knock at the door. 

“You get it,” they both said.

The knock was getting louder more aggressive, like someone was pounding on the door. 

“I’m not moving,” Stan said.

“Ughhh…fine,” Rick gave an exasperated sigh. “If it’s some bullshit, y-y-you’d hope they go easy on ya, I won’t,” 

With that Rick walked towards the door and opened it.  
Stan was eating the food, listening to the radio and only half paying attention to what Rick was saying but it started sounding threatening. Stan grabbed a chef knife and made his way to the door, just in time to see some hired goon grab Rick and drag him out the door. Stan roared and charged out the door, knife in hand. There were three ugly motherfuckers Stan didn’t know and two he did. Frank Pasco who looked like he’d had the shit kicked out of him, and his boss, Ronson, a mustachioed eccentric who looked and talked like an old gunslinger.  
Rick was currently being choked by the arm of one of Ronson’s goons.

“Now, Pines you disappointed me,” Ronson said. “You done did something right foolish, you stole from me. Frank here, well, he told us it were you, eventually.”

One of the goons came towards Stan in a menacing fashion. 

“Stole? I don’t know what you mean,” Stan lied inching closer to the goon, knife ready.

Ronson shook his head: “I don’t know kinda idiot you take me for, but I know ya did, Stanley and we’re gonna have to hurt you and friend here, cuz of it.”

Then everything got faster, Rick grabbed a shiv from his lab coat and jabbed it into the gut of the goon behind him. Stan lunged, knife in hand ready to kill the man in front of him. The man holding Rick didn’t let go, but swearing pulled out a switch blade and slit Rick’s throat from ear to ear. Stan distracted, his target wrestled the knife from him and plunged it deep into Stan’s guts, the blood loss felled him. Rick was nearby, making gurgling noises that faded to nothing, things were going black. Stan knew he was dying, as his blood ebbed into the dry ground.

End of Rotation 1  
~~~~~~~~~~~  
Rotation 2  
Stan was barely awake that day, eating a bowl of cereal enjoying the A/C and chuckling at radio preacher.

“…The waters will boil and turn to blood, the stones themselves will melt ... and the wicked will PRAY, But it will be TOO LATE! Now is the time my children, to be saved! Let Jesus into your heart! For the world is ending soon….”

Stan laughed and rolled his eyes. It was this or that mariachi music station. He liked mariachi better most of the time, but right now he could use a laugh.

“…just send money to support me, for I am a poor SERVANT OF THE LORD…”

Stan chuckled, “yeah, if that’s true I got a bridge in Brooklyn for sale.”

He wondered about the whole radio preacher racket, there might be good money in it. Naw, it meant he’d have to pretend to be a gentile.

That’s when Rick came storming in and jerked the fridge open and grabbed a beer.

“H-HEY PINES! GUESS WHAT?!”….

**Author's Note:**

> Need comments, will be very sad and feel like failure if I don't get them. I really love comments they keep warm when my soul is cold and weary. SO please make like book report and comment!


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